


dead plants, and that sort of thing.

by Extra



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/F, some babes mackin on some other babes in a slightly sad way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra/pseuds/Extra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wore this cheap leather jacket that looked like it’d been thrown in the dirt, left out in the rain, and brushed off but never really cleaned. Still, she asked me to fix her up a bouquet of roses. I asked her why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dead plants, and that sort of thing.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DivineMadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineMadness/gifts).



> Hope you like your gift, DivineMadness! It's short and rather simple, but I tried something interesting with the narration. Happy Holidays!

It wasn’t difficult to find a job after I lost mine at the music shop. Madoka had recently opened her florist’s shop, Magica Gardens, and like it was her duty she offered me a place there. We’re old friends, but I still wasn’t sure I deserved her hospitality. She was always kind to me, even after I hadn’t talked to her in months. So I started the job a little defensive, and I was working extra hard to prove to other people that I deserved to be there because I thought I didn’t.

Kyoko was there the first time I went in to work. She was just about the last person you’d think of as a regular at a store like this. She wore this cheap leather jacket that looked like it’d been thrown in the dirt, left out in the rain, and brushed off but never really cleaned. Still, she asked me to fix her up a bouquet of roses. I asked her why.

“They match my hair,” she said, grinning. It was true that her hair was a dark red. It was tied back in a thick, messy ponytail that fell below her shoulders, and which she threaded her fingers through, as if to prove her point.

But, that’s not why she bought the flowers.

“No, it’s not,” she said. She laughed at me like I didn’t know anything. “They’re for someone I don’t care about and who I keep around for a quick fuck.”

I liked the first explanation better.

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t stick your nose in someone else’s business, and then you can pretend shit like this never happens, and you can believe people only buy flowers for people they love.”

She walked out and I didn’t say anything else, since I was still trying to make a good impression and Madoka had told me how often Kyoko came in.

If I could have said anything to her after that, though, it would have been something like,

Pretending, just to stay happy? Sorry, that’s just not my style.

\---

I had been working for a month before I started thinking about quitting. There was something about the atmosphere of the place that put me off, or more like, the vibe the customers gave me.  Madoka turned a blind eye to it. She greeted her customers with a smile and they left with their arms full of flowers. Maybe it was because she was so focused on being polite, and on treating them with respect, that she failed to notice the look they all had.

“I’m buying these for my wife.”

Liar.

“I’m buying these for my husband.”

Liar.

“I’m buying these for a girl I just met, I’ll be with her tonight and then never again.”

She was the only really honest one. Even if the others were telling the truth, and not going off to rendezvous with a clandestine lover, they were only buying the flowers because they had messed up, and were trying to apologize without having to say anything. Kyoko didn’t lie, and she didn’t apologize. I didn't quit the job.

“You’re not my usual type,” she told me, “but I’d give you a try anyway. Free tonight?” She handed me a lily from the bouquet she’d just bought.

I don’t swing that way.

“Sure, that’s why your eyes follow me around the shop. You’re always working when I come by.” She leaned over the counter and I could hear her breathing.

Isn’t it that you always come by when I’m working?

She laughed.

“You’re sharp as a sword, Miki. But I’ll bet,” she said, “you’re rough around the edges, in the places other people can’t see. Consider giving me a peek.”

She walked out.

I was surprised she’d come on to me. Still, as she was leaving, I thought,

I don’t give quick peeks. With me, it’s all or nothing.

\---

“Oh, Sayaka, I know you’ve been charging Kyoko full price for the bouquets, and I know she probably sounded like she was lying when she told you I only charge her half, but it’s the truth. Kyoko only buys from us, and she doesn’t have a lot of money, so we have a kind of deal…”

Well. She never told _me_ you only charge her half.

\---

At least I can say we never did it in her bed. The first time I left with her was when she didn’t come in for my shift, and she hadn’t for a few weeks. That wasn’t like her. I was closing the shop and I saw her out front, leaning on her bike with a cigarette between her lips. She had bags under her eyes.

“Got any spare change, sweetheart?” She said it with an ugly laugh. I said,

No more than usual.

“Enough to share?” She was desperate. She didn’t wear it well.  I asked her,

Do you need a place to stay?

“A full tank of gas,” she said, patting her bike, “and I won’t bother you for anything else.” I hesitated. I asked her again,

Do you need a place to stay?

We took the bus to my apartment and she kissed me and pressed me against the door. When we got to the bed, I made sure I was on top of her, and though the rest is a haze and I don’t remember the specifics, I know I didn’t stay there.

She hovered over me, her cool fingers trailed up my thigh, she snapped my bra strap, her lips kissed my collarbone, I tugged at her hair, I heard a soft gasp, I felt amazing. I smelled her shampoo. I smelled her perfume. All over, in every place, she only smelled like…

Flowers.

I woke up alone, with a note on the kitchen table.

\---

I didn’t see her again for a month. She came in and bought the same old thing. A bouquet of who-cares for who-knows. It wasn’t for me.

“It’s not a crime to leave after saying good-bye, for Christ’s sake.”

I insisted she only pay half price.

But I’m a hypocrite. She swung by as I was leaving and we spent the night together again. Her fingers were just as cold, her mouth as warm. Her breath as hot. I felt her everywhere, and she left in the morning. I dreamt of her the night after. I convinced myself she would come back, so I could be happy. I let her sneak in and sneak out as she pleased. I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind. I couldn’t even stay true to my grounding principles. It was tempting to blame her, but I always knew the truth.

When her lips trailed down my stomach, I knew I could have stopped her. But there was a thick longing in my gut that never went away. The sight of her motorbike parked outside the shop set my heart to beating. She kept buying bouquets. I continued our affair, and, being a fool, became jealous. Eventually, I needed to know.

Who does she buy those flowers for?

“You want to know?” she whispered. She had her arms wrapped around me and my head rested on her chest. Cool summer air flowed in through the open window. I nodded.

“They’re for all the girls who I couldn’t care less about.”

\---

It was not enough that she didn’t care about them. I end up not being so much of a hypocrite. It’s still all or nothing, and I couldn’t ignore it just to be happy. I stuck by my guns. We had a big fight. I did not see her again. It was awful and I can’t say it’s stopped being awful. She was such an idiot, but I’m still hungry for her. And I still work at the shop, and I smell flowers every day. It reminds me of her, predictably. Pathetically.

I’m not sure what else to say about her. The story ends there. It's not particularly exciting, just a failed love affair. Maybe it's unorthodox, being between two women. But I don't think that really had much to do with the specifics of it. I would say,

It was nice while it lasted. or,

I wish things had turned out differently.

But I don’t think those things are worth saying. They aren’t necessarily true. It was confusing, and I can’t imagine a different outcome.

So I still  work at the flower shop. All in all, things haven’t changed. I man the cash register. I help the customers.

My stomach still turns when someone walks in that door.

If I had to describe it, I guess I feel like...

It just isn’t fair.

But I think that goes without saying.

\---

_“You’re always working when I come by.”_

_Isn’t it that you always come by when I’m working?_

_Welcome back._

 


End file.
